At a cousin's wedding in August, my grandmother and I were seated at the same table as my cousin's other relatives. These relatives have pretty much known me since forever and I'm still in awe of the fact that their eldest children are about to graduate from college when I still think of them as being little toddlers. Two of kids at our table are brothers with a bit of an age difference, with the younger brother not in his teens yet. The elder brother is quite affectionate towards the younger brother, and is very patient. In fact, my husband and I made a note of how wonderful it was to see that between siblings.
The elder one is about to graduate from college and actually presents himself very well. A very good-looking young man who carries himself very well around others, Joe and I felt very sure that he was going to do well in whatever he wanted to do with the rest of his life. My grandmother also felt the same way and started a conversation with the young man. She asked about his school, what he was studying, and what he wanted to do. She praised him for being so loving and attentive to his younger brother and also praised him for being such a good son. She of course then asked him if he had a girlfriend and if he didn't, to not worry because she knew of a few very available young women back in Singapore and Malaysia. He replied very courteously that he wasn't attached to anyone.
"Well then you shouldn't wear that earring, young man," she declared (maybe a little too loudly), referring to the little stud he had in his earlobe. "Wearing an earring only shows that you're a troublemaker. It shows that you have no respect for other people. You should take that off!"
Mortified, I tried to stop my grandmother from berating the poor young man in front of his parents but it was like trying to stop a runaway locomotive. I quickly apologized to my poor young cousin (because technically, he IS my cousin even if the only way we're related is through our cousin the groom) for the fact that my grandmother speaks without a filter. I then made a mental note to NOT give my grandmother any more wine (she had 1/4 glass of white wine) at parties. By the way, have I mentioned that the happier my grandmother is the louder her voice gets? Rest assured, she was quite the happy great-grandmother who was only made happier with a little bit of alcohol. I definitely caught glances made in our direction by guests seated at other tables several tables away.
It was definitely during that time when I wished I was a part of the Southwest Airlines commercial for "Want to get away?". Where's my "ding", dammit???
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
It's all about presentation...
I have to confess... I love food. I love the smells of food. I love the taste of food. I just love the very look of food. Which makes it all the harder for me to be the kind of foodie I want to be (sigh... I will sadly never be an Iron Chef judge) because of my allergy to certain foods, though this actually makes my husband quite happy on account of him being able to eat more of what I can't and won't eat (I've only lately started eating cilantro again and it's barely... LONG story there!).
I've never quite possessed the taste buds necessary to be a badass chef, nor have I the skills (though I'm very proud that I made little flowers out of carrot slices for a particular clay pot once). Suffice it to say that the food I cook is definitely edible and considering I haven't had much time to really indulge in fine cooking, the fact that I can put anything together at all has been a feat in itself. Fortunately for me, my grandmother being the awesome cook that she is, gave me a great lesson in cooking. I had made dinner one night in an attempt to NOT consume the usual grandmother-fare (see "Hazards of Salad") which was very simple: steamed rice, steamed chinese sausage, steamed eggs, and stir-fried cabbage with dried shrimp. Granted, two out of three were steamed and didn't really require any extra effort on my part but I DID cook the cabbage (stir-fried with some garlic and a little bit of chicken broth)! In fact, my husband and I agreed over dinner that night how nice it was to have a simple dinner and how refreshing it was to eat a plain vegetable dish. I had made quite a bit of it that night and was, in fact, the only thing remaining as leftovers.
The next night, I had come home a bit later than usual and even though I had told my grandmother that I would cook dinner, I had returned to find dinner already made. One of the items I saw cooked and ready to eat was my leftover cabbage, only it wasn't really my leftover cabbage. It resembled my simple stir-fried cabbage dish of the night before except that this one seemed to have huge chunks of chicken in it along with a visible layer of oil coating just about every nook and cranny.
"Grandma, did you recook my cabbage?" I asked rather incredulously.
"Yes, I added some chicken!" She replied happily.
"Why did you add the chicken?"
"So the dish will look prettier!"
So there you have it.
I've never quite possessed the taste buds necessary to be a badass chef, nor have I the skills (though I'm very proud that I made little flowers out of carrot slices for a particular clay pot once). Suffice it to say that the food I cook is definitely edible and considering I haven't had much time to really indulge in fine cooking, the fact that I can put anything together at all has been a feat in itself. Fortunately for me, my grandmother being the awesome cook that she is, gave me a great lesson in cooking. I had made dinner one night in an attempt to NOT consume the usual grandmother-fare (see "Hazards of Salad") which was very simple: steamed rice, steamed chinese sausage, steamed eggs, and stir-fried cabbage with dried shrimp. Granted, two out of three were steamed and didn't really require any extra effort on my part but I DID cook the cabbage (stir-fried with some garlic and a little bit of chicken broth)! In fact, my husband and I agreed over dinner that night how nice it was to have a simple dinner and how refreshing it was to eat a plain vegetable dish. I had made quite a bit of it that night and was, in fact, the only thing remaining as leftovers.
The next night, I had come home a bit later than usual and even though I had told my grandmother that I would cook dinner, I had returned to find dinner already made. One of the items I saw cooked and ready to eat was my leftover cabbage, only it wasn't really my leftover cabbage. It resembled my simple stir-fried cabbage dish of the night before except that this one seemed to have huge chunks of chicken in it along with a visible layer of oil coating just about every nook and cranny.
"Grandma, did you recook my cabbage?" I asked rather incredulously.
"Yes, I added some chicken!" She replied happily.
"Why did you add the chicken?"
"So the dish will look prettier!"
So there you have it.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The Real Reason for Confiscation
My grandmother has a tendency of trying to bring things, either from or to abroad, that she most likely shouldn't be bringing. For instance, on a trip up through Malaysia and to Thailand, she bought a bunch of fruit in a market in Thailand. Why? Because they don't have that kind of fruit in Singapore. On a trip to Japan with her friends from tai chi, she smuggled in some flowers that she found to be rather pretty and wanted to grow in front of her flat. Most of the time, she actually gets away with this because she pretty much plays that whole "I'm just a poor old lady" bit and the Customs Inspectors will just wave her on. I would even say that prior to 9/11, she got away with that quite often because she didn't speak nor understand English (which isn't 100% true) and she'll just smile and nod and look every bit the "little ol' lady" (which is a bit hard, considering she's still taller than me, and I'm 5' 6").
When my husband and I arrived at SFO to pick up my grandma, we waited by the gate for quite a while. We soon realized that all the people who had arrived two flights after her had already picked up their respective luggages and on their merry way out of the airport. I started hoping and praying that my poor grandmother hadn't fallen ill or was detained. Close to two hours after the arrival of her flight, we soon found her.
It turned out that she had come out through another gate (oops!) but had only just come out and had been waiting for half an hour. So what happened with the first hour and a half? It seems that the little ol' lady had indeed been detained by the inspectors. And what did the inspector confiscate?
- Zong zi (they're like Chinese tamales. Good stuff!)... about 20 of them
- Instant noodles (yes... I know what you're thinking, but the ones from Singapore are apparently better)
- Chicken essence (Chinese herbal chicken stuff that's actually very good for overall health. Think of it as potent chicken soup)
- Some other foodstuffs that I can't remember anymore
My grandmother was quite irate at having lost so much good food, especially since she had been the one to make the zong zi with her own hands. She was trying to do her best to salvage the remainder but was quite unsuccessful.
"She took all my best things!" She complained once we fetched her and were walking back to the truck. "She took all the instant noodles and wanted to throw everything away. I kept telling her 'no no no' but she said that I couldn't bring in."
"Well," I said, laughing. "That's what happens when you try to bring food in, grandma. It'll get confiscated."
"No," she huffed angrily. "It's because she knows that I'm such a good cook and wants to keep my food to herself."
"That's not why your food got confiscated, grandma."
"It's true. She just wanted the food for herself. I know she just put it aside so she can bring it home for dinner later. She must've taken a look at the food and thought 'mmm... looks good!' and decided to just keep it for herself."
So there you have it. Sagacious Grandmother says that if your stuff ever gets confiscated while travelling through airports, it is because the local inspector wants it for him/herself.
When my husband and I arrived at SFO to pick up my grandma, we waited by the gate for quite a while. We soon realized that all the people who had arrived two flights after her had already picked up their respective luggages and on their merry way out of the airport. I started hoping and praying that my poor grandmother hadn't fallen ill or was detained. Close to two hours after the arrival of her flight, we soon found her.
It turned out that she had come out through another gate (oops!) but had only just come out and had been waiting for half an hour. So what happened with the first hour and a half? It seems that the little ol' lady had indeed been detained by the inspectors. And what did the inspector confiscate?
- Zong zi (they're like Chinese tamales. Good stuff!)... about 20 of them
- Instant noodles (yes... I know what you're thinking, but the ones from Singapore are apparently better)
- Chicken essence (Chinese herbal chicken stuff that's actually very good for overall health. Think of it as potent chicken soup)
- Some other foodstuffs that I can't remember anymore
My grandmother was quite irate at having lost so much good food, especially since she had been the one to make the zong zi with her own hands. She was trying to do her best to salvage the remainder but was quite unsuccessful.
"She took all my best things!" She complained once we fetched her and were walking back to the truck. "She took all the instant noodles and wanted to throw everything away. I kept telling her 'no no no' but she said that I couldn't bring in."
"Well," I said, laughing. "That's what happens when you try to bring food in, grandma. It'll get confiscated."
"No," she huffed angrily. "It's because she knows that I'm such a good cook and wants to keep my food to herself."
"That's not why your food got confiscated, grandma."
"It's true. She just wanted the food for herself. I know she just put it aside so she can bring it home for dinner later. She must've taken a look at the food and thought 'mmm... looks good!' and decided to just keep it for herself."
So there you have it. Sagacious Grandmother says that if your stuff ever gets confiscated while travelling through airports, it is because the local inspector wants it for him/herself.
Friday, November 20, 2009
The Hazards of Salad
I know just about everyone will say this about their grandmothers but MY grandmother is, hands-down, THE BEST cook alive. There really wasn't much in Chinese cooking she didn't know how to cook, which was especially good for us when we moved back to California. It's not as if one could get a bowl of laksa or a plate of chicken rice by walking down to your neighborhood hawker centre so I was definitely at a loss when my grandmother moved back to Singapore (this was when I was in middle school).
Once my grandmother came to stay and had started cooking meals for us, I had come to realize that things just weren't what I had remembered from my childhood. I hadn't quite remembered the food tasting as oily or that there was always a dish with some kind of meat in it (chicken or pork, but no beef on account of my grandmother being a devout Buddhist). I quickly found out what made her food taste so good. It was lots of sugar, salt, oil, and good ol' MSG. In fact, my husband and I had just bought one of those big bottles of extra virgin olive oil from Whole Foods and while one bottle would definitely last us for a few months, that bottle was almost depleted in a little over a month! Needless to say, though grandma's cooking is still number one, my husband and I were repulsed by all the extra ingredients on a daily basis.
In an effort to start eating healthier, Joe and I stopped at Whole Foods and picked up a salad from their refrigerated shelves. We brought the salad home and ate alongside my grandmother, who was eating leftovers (being the old-school Chinese person that she is, she does not eat raw stuff).
"Salad for dinner?" She exclaimed. "There's no vitamins in that! How are you going to be full? You're going to starve your son!"
I quickly pointed out that salads had vegetables, and that the particular one I was eating had a hard-boiled egg, mushrooms, and an avocado. All very healthy ingredients which will definitely give my body enough fuel to do whatever it is I need it to do, including milk production. Of course, this all just fell on deaf ears attached to a stubborn mindset.
"You're starving your son. Eat some of this instead," she says, as she plops down a portion of one of her famous dishes into a bowl with some rice: stewed fatty pork.
Once my grandmother came to stay and had started cooking meals for us, I had come to realize that things just weren't what I had remembered from my childhood. I hadn't quite remembered the food tasting as oily or that there was always a dish with some kind of meat in it (chicken or pork, but no beef on account of my grandmother being a devout Buddhist). I quickly found out what made her food taste so good. It was lots of sugar, salt, oil, and good ol' MSG. In fact, my husband and I had just bought one of those big bottles of extra virgin olive oil from Whole Foods and while one bottle would definitely last us for a few months, that bottle was almost depleted in a little over a month! Needless to say, though grandma's cooking is still number one, my husband and I were repulsed by all the extra ingredients on a daily basis.
In an effort to start eating healthier, Joe and I stopped at Whole Foods and picked up a salad from their refrigerated shelves. We brought the salad home and ate alongside my grandmother, who was eating leftovers (being the old-school Chinese person that she is, she does not eat raw stuff).
"Salad for dinner?" She exclaimed. "There's no vitamins in that! How are you going to be full? You're going to starve your son!"
I quickly pointed out that salads had vegetables, and that the particular one I was eating had a hard-boiled egg, mushrooms, and an avocado. All very healthy ingredients which will definitely give my body enough fuel to do whatever it is I need it to do, including milk production. Of course, this all just fell on deaf ears attached to a stubborn mindset.
"You're starving your son. Eat some of this instead," she says, as she plops down a portion of one of her famous dishes into a bowl with some rice: stewed fatty pork.
Monday, November 16, 2009
True Sagacity
There were many times, when I was a little girl, where my grandmother used to lie about her age. Not just to her multitude of friends, but also to her family (which also included me). But unlike most women I know who would lie about their age by lying younger, she would always lie older. For example, for much of her fifties, my grandmother would tell people that she was in her sixties.
When I was really little, her age always screwed up my learning mathematics (so... you were supposed to turn 61 this year, but you still get to stay 60 even though you're really 55???). As I got older, I learned that it wasn't my counting that was screwed up but maybe my grandmother was really special and knew some awesome magic. Then I got to the age where I realized that my grandmother was just weird.
"Grandma," I said one day. "Most women always lie about their age, but they always lie under. Like women who are over 30 but always say that they're 29. Why do you always lie older? Don't you want to be young?"
"My dear," she said. "It's no good to lie younger than you really are."
"Why not? It seems like everyone's doing it."
She laughed. "People are smart. If you tell them that you're younger than you really are, they'll think 'wow, she looks terrible for her age'. But if you tell them that you're older than you really are, they'll think 'WOW! She looks GREAT for her age!'."
Sagacious Grandmother is truly sagacious indeed!
When I was really little, her age always screwed up my learning mathematics (so... you were supposed to turn 61 this year, but you still get to stay 60 even though you're really 55???). As I got older, I learned that it wasn't my counting that was screwed up but maybe my grandmother was really special and knew some awesome magic. Then I got to the age where I realized that my grandmother was just weird.
"Grandma," I said one day. "Most women always lie about their age, but they always lie under. Like women who are over 30 but always say that they're 29. Why do you always lie older? Don't you want to be young?"
"My dear," she said. "It's no good to lie younger than you really are."
"Why not? It seems like everyone's doing it."
She laughed. "People are smart. If you tell them that you're younger than you really are, they'll think 'wow, she looks terrible for her age'. But if you tell them that you're older than you really are, they'll think 'WOW! She looks GREAT for her age!'."
Sagacious Grandmother is truly sagacious indeed!
Friday, November 13, 2009
The Girlish Figure
For a couple months after having delivered Tyler, I was still wearing maternity clothes. In fact, I even went out and bought MORE maternity clothes as it looked like I was still pregnant. But really, it was because I had really only bought two maternity tees that I had pretty much worn to death (will it be the blue one or the gray one?). Plus, if I didn't add to my wardrobe, my husband most likely was going to call one of those makeover shows on me ("What??? She wore the same two tees and sweats for HOW LONG???").
Anyway, I was doing my best to eat right, drink plenty of fluids, and exercise. In fact, I had started doing crunches around my 4th week post-partum. Fortunately, as Tyler's birth was a vaginal delivery, getting back into shape wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. Of course, I think it definitely helped that I:
A) Had a vaginal delivery
B) Breastfeeding (apparently you eat more, but being a dairy producer burns up more calories!)
C) Was tired all the frickin' time (you would be too if you had to wake up every couple hours)
D) Have good genes (hey man, one look at my mom and you'd understand. She's barely thicker than a toothpick!)
So a little over two months after Tyler's birth, I finally managed to squeeze myself back into my pre-pregnancy jeans AND shirts without the obvious "muffin-top". I was so proud of myself that I had to show my grandmother.
"Look, grandma!" I proudly exclaimed. "I can fit in my old clothes again!"
"That's nice," she replied, giving me the once-over. "But you really should bandage up your mid-section. If you don't, your belly's just going to pop out and having a big belly doesn't look attractive on a woman."
Not to be deterred, I continued: "But I exercise! I don't look like I have a big belly!"
Silence...
And then: "You should bandage up your mid-section. You'll look much prettier because you'll have a nicer figure."
Needless to say, I lost that argument.
Anyway, I was doing my best to eat right, drink plenty of fluids, and exercise. In fact, I had started doing crunches around my 4th week post-partum. Fortunately, as Tyler's birth was a vaginal delivery, getting back into shape wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. Of course, I think it definitely helped that I:
A) Had a vaginal delivery
B) Breastfeeding (apparently you eat more, but being a dairy producer burns up more calories!)
C) Was tired all the frickin' time (you would be too if you had to wake up every couple hours)
D) Have good genes (hey man, one look at my mom and you'd understand. She's barely thicker than a toothpick!)
So a little over two months after Tyler's birth, I finally managed to squeeze myself back into my pre-pregnancy jeans AND shirts without the obvious "muffin-top". I was so proud of myself that I had to show my grandmother.
"Look, grandma!" I proudly exclaimed. "I can fit in my old clothes again!"
"That's nice," she replied, giving me the once-over. "But you really should bandage up your mid-section. If you don't, your belly's just going to pop out and having a big belly doesn't look attractive on a woman."
Not to be deterred, I continued: "But I exercise! I don't look like I have a big belly!"
Silence...
And then: "You should bandage up your mid-section. You'll look much prettier because you'll have a nicer figure."
Needless to say, I lost that argument.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Sex Change (Part II)
Though he's much more tolerant of it now, Tyler was absolutely incapable of being in a dirty diaper for more than a minute for the first three months of his young life. This applied to both Number One and Number Two. He would get really fussy and nothing could get him to calm down until we had changed his diaper, at which point all would be well again. In fact, his record of number of diapers used in one day is 26. 26! Thank goodness for cloth diapers!
My husband and I originally thought this fussiness about being in a dirty diaper was only in cloth diapers only to find out quickly that it also extended to disposables. Just ask my lactation consultant and some of my mommy girlfriends. Tyler once went through three disposables in less than two hours. Only after he was clean and changed could he resume nursing and being his little baby self again.
My grandmother had tried on a number of occasions to get us to not change his diaper so frequently, all of which resulted in uncontrollable crying and fussiness for about 10 minutes before she would give up and tell us to change his diaper. At first, she teased Tyler about his cleanliness by saying that only girls are fussy about having a clean diaper and that it is okay for boys to sit in a dirty diaper all day long. After a few weeks of this, my grandmother loudly proclaimed (while I was changing Tyler's diaper):
"Your son must really be a girl because seriously speaking, only girls are that fussy about being in a clean diaper. You really shouldn't change his diaper so often."
Yeah... I just didn't know how to respond to that one...
My husband and I originally thought this fussiness about being in a dirty diaper was only in cloth diapers only to find out quickly that it also extended to disposables. Just ask my lactation consultant and some of my mommy girlfriends. Tyler once went through three disposables in less than two hours. Only after he was clean and changed could he resume nursing and being his little baby self again.
My grandmother had tried on a number of occasions to get us to not change his diaper so frequently, all of which resulted in uncontrollable crying and fussiness for about 10 minutes before she would give up and tell us to change his diaper. At first, she teased Tyler about his cleanliness by saying that only girls are fussy about having a clean diaper and that it is okay for boys to sit in a dirty diaper all day long. After a few weeks of this, my grandmother loudly proclaimed (while I was changing Tyler's diaper):
"Your son must really be a girl because seriously speaking, only girls are that fussy about being in a clean diaper. You really shouldn't change his diaper so often."
Yeah... I just didn't know how to respond to that one...
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Not stating the obvious...
It is Chinese belief that for a whole month after birthing a baby, the new mother should eat foods that are very warming (lots of ginger) as well as drink liquids that are very warming as well (like red wine). The theory is that a woman's body has just been through an extremely traumatic event (well, that's definitely a no-brainer) and in order to expel anything that may still be stagnant (particularly blood), the woman should be consuming warming foods. Basically, it's a lot like applying a hot pack to an injury or a sore area to make sure that blood is flowing to flush out whatever toxins may be stuck in that particular area. As long as the blood is flowing normally, the area will recover quicker due to good oxygenation and other good stuff a body needs to heal itself. According to Chinese belief, doing so will also help keep the mother's body healthy for a long time and help keep her strong and youthful into old age.
Having had the experience of Chinese medicine help me where Western medicine could not (those foul-tasting soups cured me of my hyperthyroidism), I definitely try to keep an open mind about such things. I figured that if these things have been around for thousands of years, not all of it can be bunk. One of the major tenets of Chinese medicine is that diet has a huge effect on how your body works. For example, as I have eczema, I have found that foods that are spicy to aggravate it more, along with things that are high in sugar (like Coldstone's ice cream) or too much alcohol (particularly too many shots!). Alas, I love the spicy AND the sweet, but as everyone says nowadays, moderation is key.
This is all very well and good, you say, but how does this tie in with Sagacious Grandmother? Not long after having delivered Tyler, I was spoiled by my MIL and aunts who prepared all these lovely dishes for me, all containing lots and lots of ginger. I didn't think anything of it at first, but as the days went by, I realized that my eczema was acting up BIG TIME. In fact, my grandmother also prepared a lot of meals specifically for me that were also highly ginger-y. The result? Eczema on my face, neck, trunk, arms, and legs!
I pleaded with my grandmother to stop making those special meals, or if she couldn't/wouldn't, to at least severely cut down on the amount of ginger. She would flatly refuse, saying that I needed to have the ginger so that I would have lots of vitamins for my son and be healthy (as I still needed to flush out whatever toxins may still be in my system). Whenever I pointed out my latest rash or how much worse it was getting, her standard reply was to "put more lotion on it". Needless to say, I was getting more and more aggravated.
Finally, after the first month had passed (and therefore, no more ginger!), my skin started to clear up. Though the rashes never went away, they were just really dry, at which point putting more lotion on it was the obvious solution. One day, my grandmother cooked something for me that contained a lot of ginger (without my knowledge). As I was eating it, the dry skin on my face started to get itchier and itchier.
"Hmm," my grandmother said as I was scratching at my face and neck. "Maybe you shouldn't eat so much ginger and other 'hot' stuff. Your rash is looking worse."
As Homer Simpson would aptly put it: "D'oh!"
Having had the experience of Chinese medicine help me where Western medicine could not (those foul-tasting soups cured me of my hyperthyroidism), I definitely try to keep an open mind about such things. I figured that if these things have been around for thousands of years, not all of it can be bunk. One of the major tenets of Chinese medicine is that diet has a huge effect on how your body works. For example, as I have eczema, I have found that foods that are spicy to aggravate it more, along with things that are high in sugar (like Coldstone's ice cream) or too much alcohol (particularly too many shots!). Alas, I love the spicy AND the sweet, but as everyone says nowadays, moderation is key.
This is all very well and good, you say, but how does this tie in with Sagacious Grandmother? Not long after having delivered Tyler, I was spoiled by my MIL and aunts who prepared all these lovely dishes for me, all containing lots and lots of ginger. I didn't think anything of it at first, but as the days went by, I realized that my eczema was acting up BIG TIME. In fact, my grandmother also prepared a lot of meals specifically for me that were also highly ginger-y. The result? Eczema on my face, neck, trunk, arms, and legs!
I pleaded with my grandmother to stop making those special meals, or if she couldn't/wouldn't, to at least severely cut down on the amount of ginger. She would flatly refuse, saying that I needed to have the ginger so that I would have lots of vitamins for my son and be healthy (as I still needed to flush out whatever toxins may still be in my system). Whenever I pointed out my latest rash or how much worse it was getting, her standard reply was to "put more lotion on it". Needless to say, I was getting more and more aggravated.
Finally, after the first month had passed (and therefore, no more ginger!), my skin started to clear up. Though the rashes never went away, they were just really dry, at which point putting more lotion on it was the obvious solution. One day, my grandmother cooked something for me that contained a lot of ginger (without my knowledge). As I was eating it, the dry skin on my face started to get itchier and itchier.
"Hmm," my grandmother said as I was scratching at my face and neck. "Maybe you shouldn't eat so much ginger and other 'hot' stuff. Your rash is looking worse."
As Homer Simpson would aptly put it: "D'oh!"
Friday, November 6, 2009
Lots of Vitamins (Part I)
One of the things I had to do once Tyler was born was to see a lactation consultant. One of the ways of keeping milk production up was to keep up on liquids, which makes perfect sense. Keeping up my intake of liquids included coffee, soups, and lots of water. Of course, I supplemented my water with Momma's Milk Tonic or with Mother's Milk tea. Not only is keeping milk production up important, but the quality is important as well. I also supplement with fish oil and prenatal vitamins, as well as make sure I eat right. I've done my best to refrain from consuming things with a lot of preservatives or questionables, like instant coffee.
One of the many items my grandmother brought over from Singapore is Milo. Milo is a chocolate malt drink that's similar to Ovaltine. It was one of my favorite drinks as a kid growing up in Singapore (along with Horlicks). Though I have nothing against making myself a good ol' mug of Milo myself, I feel uneasy about drinking the instant Milo my grandmother brought over as it comes with creamer and sugar (but mainly just the additive creamer that's already included). I try not to take in the artificial stuff whenever possible, even before I was pregnant. I certainly wasn't going to start making it a habit after having had a baby now. And it's about what I consume that determines the quality of the breastmilk that's produced as well (and, of course, there's another Sagacious Grandmother tidbit here, but I'll save it for another posting).
I used to go out in the morning, either to work out with Baby Boot Camp or meet with the other moms for coffee and lunch, with some toast in my hand and my bottle of water (I reuse the glass Honest Tea bottles, thank you very much!). Throughout the day, I would also try to drink as much water (with the Momma's Milk tonic) or Mother's Milk tea as possible. My grandmother would constantly express her distaste at my consumption of water and tea.
"You shouldn't drink so much water," she would say. "You need to drink Milo so you will have lots of vitamins for your son!"
"Grandma," I would say as patiently as I could. "I add this and drink that as well as eat right to make sure that I'll have lots of vitamins for my son. Milo just won't do it, okay?"
"Well, I brought all that Milo. You should drink it or you won't have vitamins for your son, you understand?"
Perfectly.
One of the many items my grandmother brought over from Singapore is Milo. Milo is a chocolate malt drink that's similar to Ovaltine. It was one of my favorite drinks as a kid growing up in Singapore (along with Horlicks). Though I have nothing against making myself a good ol' mug of Milo myself, I feel uneasy about drinking the instant Milo my grandmother brought over as it comes with creamer and sugar (but mainly just the additive creamer that's already included). I try not to take in the artificial stuff whenever possible, even before I was pregnant. I certainly wasn't going to start making it a habit after having had a baby now. And it's about what I consume that determines the quality of the breastmilk that's produced as well (and, of course, there's another Sagacious Grandmother tidbit here, but I'll save it for another posting).
I used to go out in the morning, either to work out with Baby Boot Camp or meet with the other moms for coffee and lunch, with some toast in my hand and my bottle of water (I reuse the glass Honest Tea bottles, thank you very much!). Throughout the day, I would also try to drink as much water (with the Momma's Milk tonic) or Mother's Milk tea as possible. My grandmother would constantly express her distaste at my consumption of water and tea.
"You shouldn't drink so much water," she would say. "You need to drink Milo so you will have lots of vitamins for your son!"
"Grandma," I would say as patiently as I could. "I add this and drink that as well as eat right to make sure that I'll have lots of vitamins for my son. Milo just won't do it, okay?"
"Well, I brought all that Milo. You should drink it or you won't have vitamins for your son, you understand?"
Perfectly.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Poo Explosion Reason #1
I had come home from a Diaper Day movie with my fellow new-mom girlfriends one afternoon just as I finished a large iced tea from the Coffee Society in the Pruneyard in Campbell. Just what is a Diaper Day movie you might ask? Well, it is a movie showing (determined by the movie theater people) where it's kid- and baby-friendly. My girlfriends and I have made it to almost every one (although I must say each movie they've shown for the month of October have just sucked) and it's a blast being able to do normal things again, like watching a movie with your baby. The best part of going to these things is that you don't have to worry about your baby screaming, crying, or fussing because just about all the babies are also screaming, crying, or fussing. It's definitely one of those things that makes motherhood more pleasant (as opposed to just staying at home all day long with said screaming, crying, or fussing baby... not that Tyler is like that... most of the time anyway!).
Anyway, I had just come back from an early afternoon at the movies and had just polished off a large iced tea as I stepped in through the door to my house. As I went to dump the remaining ice in the sink (where my grandmother was washing vegetables for that night's dinner), my grandmother expressed distaste for my consumption of iced beverages. "You're going to give him an upset stomach because you're drinking things with so much ice," she warned. "Just watch!"
Later that night, Tyler had a massive poo explosion. This was something to be expected as he had been constipated for the past 24+ hours. As I was cleaning up the mess (and thank Heaven for cloth diapers as they make for fast and easy cleanup!), my grandmother loudly proclaimed: "See? I told you! The reason why your son had such a huge and messy poop was because you drank something with ice in it!"
"Grandma," I said, a bit exasperated. "The reason why he had such a huge and messy poop was because he hadn't pooped for almost two days!"
"No, it is not. It is because you gave him an upset stomach for drinking something with so much ice in it."
Sigh...
Anyway, I had just come back from an early afternoon at the movies and had just polished off a large iced tea as I stepped in through the door to my house. As I went to dump the remaining ice in the sink (where my grandmother was washing vegetables for that night's dinner), my grandmother expressed distaste for my consumption of iced beverages. "You're going to give him an upset stomach because you're drinking things with so much ice," she warned. "Just watch!"
Later that night, Tyler had a massive poo explosion. This was something to be expected as he had been constipated for the past 24+ hours. As I was cleaning up the mess (and thank Heaven for cloth diapers as they make for fast and easy cleanup!), my grandmother loudly proclaimed: "See? I told you! The reason why your son had such a huge and messy poop was because you drank something with ice in it!"
"Grandma," I said, a bit exasperated. "The reason why he had such a huge and messy poop was because he hadn't pooped for almost two days!"
"No, it is not. It is because you gave him an upset stomach for drinking something with so much ice in it."
Sigh...
Monday, November 2, 2009
Sex Change (Part I)
My husband and I have been doing cloth diapers on our son with the exception of when we go out, in which case disposables (Tushies) makes it much more convenient. I know that it used to be that when cloth diapers were used, you'd have to use safety pins to hold it all together. While we were waiting for Tyler to arrive, my husband and I were pretty wary about our skills in safety pinning the cloth diaper on our baby (hey, I wasn't nicknamed "Danger Prone Daffy" for nothing!!!). When we found out that the way to secure the cloth diaper are these things called "Snappi Clips", we both breathed a sigh of relief. The class we had taken was very informative and made cloth diapering look like a piece of cake and to this day, still is. The cloth diapering workshop we had taken to introduce us to this world of cloth diapering was very informative and fun. The instructor definitely made it a point to tell us that there's no way we can ever fasten the diaper too tightly on our baby. So when Tyler arrived, cloth diapering really was that easy and awesome.
My grandmother had used cloth diapers on all of her children and on her grandchildren as well. So I figured that she would be the one to tell me that I needed to put the diaper on tighter as by the time she got to meet Tyler, she was a Cloth Diapering Black Belt Master and could pin those suckers on wriggly babies in her sleep. Imagine my surprise when she kept criticizing my diapering by saying that I was putting the diaper on too tightly.
"You're putting the diaper on too tightly! He's going to be really uncomfortable because he's too tight," she would say very matter-of-factly. "Don't put it on so tight or you're going to give him a tiny waist and turn him into a girl."
"A girl? Come on, Grandma!" I would say, exasperated.
"Just watch," she warned. "If you keep doing that, you're going to turn your son into a daughter!"
My grandmother had used cloth diapers on all of her children and on her grandchildren as well. So I figured that she would be the one to tell me that I needed to put the diaper on tighter as by the time she got to meet Tyler, she was a Cloth Diapering Black Belt Master and could pin those suckers on wriggly babies in her sleep. Imagine my surprise when she kept criticizing my diapering by saying that I was putting the diaper on too tightly.
"You're putting the diaper on too tightly! He's going to be really uncomfortable because he's too tight," she would say very matter-of-factly. "Don't put it on so tight or you're going to give him a tiny waist and turn him into a girl."
"A girl? Come on, Grandma!" I would say, exasperated.
"Just watch," she warned. "If you keep doing that, you're going to turn your son into a daughter!"
Friday, October 30, 2009
The Scary Horse
I have a niece who's a little over a year old now. She's a very cute little girl who is now learning how to talk (actually, she's talking but hasn't quite connected the right sounds with the objects yet). My husband and I used to remark how she used to look just like my mother-in-law, mainly the "worried" or "concerned" expression, but is now at a point where her features are starting to get defined a bit more. To me, she's definitely starting to look like her mother.
So how does my niece fit into the whole Sagacious Grandmother bit? My niece used to cry at the very sight of me. Every time she saw or heard me, she would start crying. The only way she could be around me was from far away where she could keep an eye on me from a distance. This really bummed me out because I love kids and she was the only one who would react that way to me (actually, her older brother used to have the same reaction towards me but that lasted a couple months). I would feel really badly that she would sometimes get so worked up crying that I just wanted to leave so she could calm down lest she develop some anxiety issues.
I had told this to my grandmother during her stay with me this past summer but she didn't really believe me until she saw it with her own eyes on a couple occasions. Once was in my BIL's house and the other was my niece's one-year birthday party in a park (by the way, at said birthday party, my niece took to my grandmother like a bee to honey. THAT was rather depressing). My grandmother just couldn't believe the reaction I would get from my niece every time. She was constantly asking me why she would react that way every time she saw me and I would constantly reply with "I don't know".
On the way home from the birthday party in the park, my grandmother asked once more why my niece should be so afraid of me to which I replied my now-standard answer "I don't know". She became real quiet as she pondered this little mystery. After a little while, she loudly proclaimed:
"The reason why your niece always cries when she sees you is because she's a Rat and you're a Horse and Rats are afraid of Horses."
For those of you who don't know what that means, my grandmother is referring to the Chinese Zodiac where the calendar is run by 12-year cycles and each year is represented by an animal. Those born in 2008 are Rats and those born in 2009 are Oxen. I was born in the Year of the Horse.
I didn't know how to respond to that. If this was true, then all my little nieces and nephew (on my dad's side) would also be afraid of me and cry at the sight of me. If I brought this up, my grandmother might say that it was because my dad's side of the family was "different". As my BIL and his wife pointed out, the both of them would also be afraid of me because they're Rats also. But if I told my grandmother, she might say that it was because they're older than me and that it doesn't count. And since my grandmother went back to Singapore, my niece hasn't cried at the sight of me. She's actually interacting with me more, though she still won't let me hold her. It's really cute to see her trying to talk to me and interact with my son as well. I just love it!
I thought about telling her this latest update but I know that the response I'll get will be something that actually sounds pretty practical, like "it's because she's been seeing you more." But whatever the case is, there was a time when that little Rat was too afraid of this scary Horse.
So how does my niece fit into the whole Sagacious Grandmother bit? My niece used to cry at the very sight of me. Every time she saw or heard me, she would start crying. The only way she could be around me was from far away where she could keep an eye on me from a distance. This really bummed me out because I love kids and she was the only one who would react that way to me (actually, her older brother used to have the same reaction towards me but that lasted a couple months). I would feel really badly that she would sometimes get so worked up crying that I just wanted to leave so she could calm down lest she develop some anxiety issues.
I had told this to my grandmother during her stay with me this past summer but she didn't really believe me until she saw it with her own eyes on a couple occasions. Once was in my BIL's house and the other was my niece's one-year birthday party in a park (by the way, at said birthday party, my niece took to my grandmother like a bee to honey. THAT was rather depressing). My grandmother just couldn't believe the reaction I would get from my niece every time. She was constantly asking me why she would react that way every time she saw me and I would constantly reply with "I don't know".
On the way home from the birthday party in the park, my grandmother asked once more why my niece should be so afraid of me to which I replied my now-standard answer "I don't know". She became real quiet as she pondered this little mystery. After a little while, she loudly proclaimed:
"The reason why your niece always cries when she sees you is because she's a Rat and you're a Horse and Rats are afraid of Horses."
For those of you who don't know what that means, my grandmother is referring to the Chinese Zodiac where the calendar is run by 12-year cycles and each year is represented by an animal. Those born in 2008 are Rats and those born in 2009 are Oxen. I was born in the Year of the Horse.
I didn't know how to respond to that. If this was true, then all my little nieces and nephew (on my dad's side) would also be afraid of me and cry at the sight of me. If I brought this up, my grandmother might say that it was because my dad's side of the family was "different". As my BIL and his wife pointed out, the both of them would also be afraid of me because they're Rats also. But if I told my grandmother, she might say that it was because they're older than me and that it doesn't count. And since my grandmother went back to Singapore, my niece hasn't cried at the sight of me. She's actually interacting with me more, though she still won't let me hold her. It's really cute to see her trying to talk to me and interact with my son as well. I just love it!
I thought about telling her this latest update but I know that the response I'll get will be something that actually sounds pretty practical, like "it's because she's been seeing you more." But whatever the case is, there was a time when that little Rat was too afraid of this scary Horse.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The Cause of Eczema
Eczema runs in my dad's side of the family. I had it really badly when I was a baby and I didn't manage to fully get it under control until I was about 18. I still have bouts of it here and there, but it's nowhere near the scale of what my rashes used to be like.
According to Google Health, it is a hypersensitivity reaction (similar to an allergy) in the skin, which leads to long-term inflammation. The inflammation causes the skin to become itchy and scaly. Long-term irritation and scratching can cause the skin to thicken and have a leather-like texture. Eczema is a chronic condition diagnosed primarily on the appearance of the skin and personal and family history.
Of course, I didn't know any of this when I was a little girl living with my grandmother in Singapore. I just remembered having intolerable rashes and being regularly doused with something like baby powder and drinking lots of Chinese medicinal soups (you know, the really foul-tasting kind). At one point, I had asked my grandmother how I came to have eczema (and mind you, I had already been studying science in school and already had a vague idea about genetics).
"It's because your mother ate too many crackers and biscuits when she was pregnant with you," she explained. "All the crumbs just settled on your skin and made you itchy and there! Eczema!"
Ah...
According to Google Health, it is a hypersensitivity reaction (similar to an allergy) in the skin, which leads to long-term inflammation. The inflammation causes the skin to become itchy and scaly. Long-term irritation and scratching can cause the skin to thicken and have a leather-like texture. Eczema is a chronic condition diagnosed primarily on the appearance of the skin and personal and family history.
Of course, I didn't know any of this when I was a little girl living with my grandmother in Singapore. I just remembered having intolerable rashes and being regularly doused with something like baby powder and drinking lots of Chinese medicinal soups (you know, the really foul-tasting kind). At one point, I had asked my grandmother how I came to have eczema (and mind you, I had already been studying science in school and already had a vague idea about genetics).
"It's because your mother ate too many crackers and biscuits when she was pregnant with you," she explained. "All the crumbs just settled on your skin and made you itchy and there! Eczema!"
Ah...
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Too Much Tea and Coffee!
One of the first comments that my grandmother made once she laid eyes upon my then three week old son was how dark my son was. While most agreed that my son looked rather tan, my husband and I didn't really think anything of it.
"It's because you drank too much coffee and tea while you were pregnant. That's why he's so dark," my wise grandmother explained. " You should've drank lots of milk and soy milk while you were pregnant. Then his skin would be nice and white and beautiful."
It's not that she's racist or anything. In Asia (and just about all my friends who are from Asia will testify to this), to have very fair or light complexion is a sign of beauty. Skin lighteners are big there, and I mean BIG. Just watch TV and there will inevitably be commercials for skin lighteners as part of regular programming.
We could try to explain genetics to her, but it's pretty much just in-one-ear-and-out-the-other. So even though I barely drank any coffee during my pregnancy (and it was decaf, by the way) and hardly drank any black teas (if it was tea, it was either green tea or chrysanthemum tea), just that little bit was enough to cause my son's dark complexion.
I told my BIL (brother-in-law) about this one evening at which he promptly replied: "Did you tell her 'no' and that all you drank during your pregnancy was milk? I'd love to hear what she has to say about that!"
"Nope," I said. Crap, I thought. Too late for that now.
"It's because you drank too much coffee and tea while you were pregnant. That's why he's so dark," my wise grandmother explained. " You should've drank lots of milk and soy milk while you were pregnant. Then his skin would be nice and white and beautiful."
It's not that she's racist or anything. In Asia (and just about all my friends who are from Asia will testify to this), to have very fair or light complexion is a sign of beauty. Skin lighteners are big there, and I mean BIG. Just watch TV and there will inevitably be commercials for skin lighteners as part of regular programming.
We could try to explain genetics to her, but it's pretty much just in-one-ear-and-out-the-other. So even though I barely drank any coffee during my pregnancy (and it was decaf, by the way) and hardly drank any black teas (if it was tea, it was either green tea or chrysanthemum tea), just that little bit was enough to cause my son's dark complexion.
I told my BIL (brother-in-law) about this one evening at which he promptly replied: "Did you tell her 'no' and that all you drank during your pregnancy was milk? I'd love to hear what she has to say about that!"
"Nope," I said. Crap, I thought. Too late for that now.
Welcome!
Welcome to The Sagacious Grandmother!
How did I come across this idea of blogging about my grandmother? It started when my grandmother came to stay with me shortly after the birth of my son. During her stay, she had plenty of little nuggets of wisdom to share with me on how to take care of my postpartum body as well as my newborn along with a host of other things. I found these nuggets to be so awesome I decided to share them with my friends on Facebook. As a result, the feedback I received from my friends was so overwhelming, with just about everyone suggesting I put those little tidbits onto a blog. Hence "The Sagacious Grandmother" blog!
I did not start this blog to be mean or disrespectful to my grandmother, who played a huge role in my upbringing. I absolutely adore her and hope that the love I have for her comes across in my blog posts as well.
I hope you will find these little nuggets to be as profound and amusing as my friends and I have found them to be. Please feel free to laugh, cry, exclaim "Oh no she didn't!", or even to share your own family's nuggets of wisdom. Enjoy!
How did I come across this idea of blogging about my grandmother? It started when my grandmother came to stay with me shortly after the birth of my son. During her stay, she had plenty of little nuggets of wisdom to share with me on how to take care of my postpartum body as well as my newborn along with a host of other things. I found these nuggets to be so awesome I decided to share them with my friends on Facebook. As a result, the feedback I received from my friends was so overwhelming, with just about everyone suggesting I put those little tidbits onto a blog. Hence "The Sagacious Grandmother" blog!
I did not start this blog to be mean or disrespectful to my grandmother, who played a huge role in my upbringing. I absolutely adore her and hope that the love I have for her comes across in my blog posts as well.
I hope you will find these little nuggets to be as profound and amusing as my friends and I have found them to be. Please feel free to laugh, cry, exclaim "Oh no she didn't!", or even to share your own family's nuggets of wisdom. Enjoy!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)